


Sirius

by nymphaliday



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, just a little free-write ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphaliday/pseuds/nymphaliday
Summary: Jeremy opened his mouth, and later Jean wouldn’t be able to remember what his groundbreaking new pun was; only that it had everyone around him in tears and even Jean choked on his water.Jean choked on water.***A little self-indulgent ficlet about Jean's trauma/recovery. As with all things AFTG, please approach with caution. Also pls excuse errors it's 2AM and I haven't proofread at all.
Relationships: Alvarez/Laila Dermott, Jeremy Knox & Jean Moreau, Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Comments: 6
Kudos: 97





	Sirius

“I like elephants,” said Alvarez. “Everything else is irrelephant.” She was met by a chorus of laughs, agonized groans, and a couple begrudging claps.

“Good one babe,” said Laila, plunking down her tray on the table next to her girlfriend’s, almost knocking over Jeremy’s root beer. Jean reached out and stabilized it before it ruined Jeremy’s shirt, although Jeremy pretty much only wore red Trojans T-shirts so it wasn’t like he had no spares. Jean was right next to him in the splash zone, though, and now that he didn’t wear black anymore, he didn’t particularly want to risk the stains. He was rewarded with a toothy grin. 

“My savior,” Jeremy nudged him, then turned back to the group. “Okay okay, I’ve got one. This is gonna blow you guys outta the water.”

Jean didn’t really know how it had happened, but somehow it had become a tradition of the USC Exy team to share their absolute worst - or in Jeremy’s unsubtle opinion, best - puns every evening at dinner. A good deal of them picked on other sports, sometimes earning them glares from the lacrosse or volleyball teams at neighboring tables. Jean didn’t know how they all kept coming up with them, and he refused to be an accessory to the debauchery, usually remaining stoic even in the face of jokes that had others roaring in laughter.

Jeremy opened his mouth, and later Jean wouldn’t be able to remember what his groundbreaking new pun was; only that it had everyone around him in tears and even Jean choked on his water.

Jean choked on water.

The ambient noise of the cafeteria surged in intensity, crashing into his conscious awareness. The squeaks of hundreds of pairs of athletic sneakers on the linoleum floor, the clinks of glasses, the scrape of metal utensils on ceramic plates, the murmured conversations punctuated with laughter, the insistent whine of that one flickering fluorescent light facing its untimely demise - he heard it all. For a brief moment it assaulted him from all directions, waves on the verge of bludgeoning him into the sand - 

\- and then, suddenly, it was quiet; muffled. Jean’s ears could hear, but a thick layer of gauze stood between him and the world. Laila asked him a question and Jean’s mouth replied, but he didn’t know what he said. Jean’s hand picked up his fork and he watched it stab another bite of tasteless chicken. He knew, rationally, that he was sitting in the cafeteria in USC, on the far far side of the country from the Nest. Even so, he was infested with the possibility that this was all merely a vision concocted by his battered brain to protect him from whatever Riko was doing to his body, the choking on water the only sensation to cut through to his awareness. Similar enough had happened before, though not with the same degree of detail. 

Jean blinked, and found himself standing in the exy stadium. Somehow he must have gotten through afternoon classes, practice, and dinner, because a quick glance at the clock told him it was 10pm. That he’d at least stuck to his routine of nighttime practice was only a small relief. Jean let out a breath, and began setting up the cones for one of the Raven’s drills. As much as even going through the motions made his guts churn with a familiar dread, he hadn’t allowed himself to neglect this regular part of his practice. No matter how much he wanted his new life to be true, he couldn’t shake the feeling that one day, he would wake up and be killed for slacking off. 

Once Alvarez had found him practicing drills at midnight, and whistled in slightly-horrified admiration. “You must really love Exy,” she’d said. 

Jean didn’t know if he loved Exy. He didn’t even know if he liked it. He’d never stopped to consider it; it was and always would be a waste of mental energy he couldn’t spare. As a child he’d certainly had no interest in sports, save swimming perhaps. He wanted to be a poet, maybe, or perhaps an artist, or even a lawyer - people had always said he was a spitfire. His world was the surface of the ocean, and he’d revelled in not yet knowing the possibilities that lay underneath. His little sister was the opposite, of course; she’d always longed to be an astronaut or an astronomer or whatever put her closest to the stars. Jean still remembered her eagerly pointing out the constellations, though he paid little attention at the time. He hoped she, at least, was fulfilling her dreams (a sick part of him used to wish she had suffered even a little of what he had, that he wasn’t the only one forced to bear their parents’ burden. Years in darkness had made him such a bitter, envious thing). 

Jean finished setting up the cones, and let the rhythm of the drill carry him away. For a while, the only sounds were the squeak of his sneakers, the thud of the ball against the floor and walls, the clatter of cones as he knocked them over, and his own heaving breaths. And then - he fumbled, and the ball ricocheted off the wall directly into his gut. Jean bit his lip to force back the tears that had sprung into his eyes at the impact. This was nothing. _Again._ This time, he overcorrected, and the ball skimmed past his ear. _Again. Again. Again._

“Jean.” Jean heard a voice call to him, but it was distant, and meaningless. He had to get this drill right, or Riko would kill him. _Again._

“Jean, stop.” This time, it was his left thigh that took the blow. _Again._

“Jean!” Jean felt a warm hand grasp his arm and try to take his racket from him, so he reflexively held it tighter. “It’s me, it’s Jeremy.”

That’s right - Riko’s hands were always cold and dry, like his blood couldn’t stand the thought of enabling their actions, but the hands that held him now were warm and a little sticky with sweat. Jeremy’s hands had always been a solid, supportive weight; they were never aggressive, never to him. Jean reluctantly let his racket go, and turned to face his captain (his friend?) 

Jeremy sighed. “I knew I’d find you here. What were you even doing? You’re all covered in bruises.”

“I’ve practiced much worse than this,” Jean snorted.

Jeremy didn’t even flinch. “But you don’t have to.” 

Jean had no reply to this, and turned to gather up the scattered cones and exy balls around the stadium, fully expecting Jeremy to leave when he did not provide further conversation. Still, he felt Jeremy’s thoughtful gaze persist even as he put away the last ball and locked the storage closet. 

“What do you want?” Jean snapped, heading toward the exit. 

“There’s something - well, someplace I want to show you.” Jeremy pulled out his keys and locked the stadium door behind them. “Come with me.” He neatly pocketed the keys and started heading in a direction Jean hadn’t bothered to go before (exploring was pointless), without waiting to see if Jean would follow. Despite grumbling for a moment, Jean jogged a couple steps to catch up. 

Jeremy was silent the rest of the walk as he led Jean behind the athletic buildings, across the street, between the science labs, and finally past a worn-down “No trespassing” sign that apparently Jeremy did not care to read. They turned and started hiking up a small grassy hill decorated with only a few scattered trees. Jean's thighs began to protest the incline, but it was the comfortable and familiar ache of tired muscles. Jeremy stopped once they reached the top, and sat in a patch of grass that was a little more worn-down than the rest.

“I come here sometimes to center myself,” Jeremy said, leaning back on his elbows. “Living in the city, it’s hard to remember the world isn’t all concrete.” The Nest was all concrete, not a scrap of carpeting. The ground beneath Jean now wasn’t quite soft enough for his thoroughly bruised limbs, but there was a bit of give as he hesitantly lowered himself down next to Jeremy. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the branches and blades of grass tickled Jean’s bare arms. 

“At home I like to stargaze,” Jeremy continued, a little bashfully. He lay down the rest of the way so he could gaze at the sky, and Jean followed suit. “But enjoy the haze I guess.” 

Jean liked the haze. Los Angeles was never truly dark; no matter what time of night it was, the lights of the city were reflected by the thick fog of pollution that clung to taller buildings. Losing stars seemed a worthy trade-off. Even so, Jean thought he spied a flickering light peaking through it all. _Sirius_ , he remembered his sister saying. _The brightest star in the sky_. _It can shine through anything._

Jean felt something brush his palm, and turned his head to look at Jeremy, only to find Jeremy was already watching him. “Is this okay?” Jeremy whispered, and at Jean’s nod, he interlaced their fingers - some pale and crooked, some freckled and stubby, all calloused. 

There, on that patch of lawn in LA, holding hands with a boy who outshone the brightest star, Jean thought: _Here I am._

**Author's Note:**

> If you want more fics please comment to let me know! I have several other jerejean and andreil fics partially drafted and only rarely have the motivation to keep going. Also, please let me know if I have spelling or grammatical errors in this - as I said before, I did not proofread and am going to sleep now.


End file.
